


This is Our Salvation

by waitingondaisies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, F/F, Female Draco Malfoy, Female Draco Malfoy/Female Harry Potter, Female Harry Potter, Femslash, First Meetings, Harry Potter is a Sweetheart, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Murder, Possessive Draco Malfoy, Wanderlust, takes place in small town america in the 70s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22081453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitingondaisies/pseuds/waitingondaisies
Summary: After accidentally murdering Uncle Vernon out of fear for her life, Harry is forced to flee the only place she's ever known with only a stolen car and the clothes on her back.As she drives through town after town, her most fervent hope is that she won't be found. What she finds for herself, however, is a new attraction to a mysterious, travelling stranger who seems to be just as drawn to her in return.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 42
Kudos: 158





	1. Finding Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> if your name is Victoria and u teach intro to lgbtq studies I stg I wrote this myself I’m just posting it here

I check the view in my rear-view mirror, feeling as though there ought to be people pursuing me. It’s a ridiculous thought of course, it hasn’t been long enough for anyone to have discovered anything amiss. I still have a couple hours of grace before I really have to worry about pursuit—probably longer, actually, because I’m on the run. That is, so long as I don’t give anyone an excuse to look in the trunk of the car. The car that I’ve stolen from Vernon.

It’s only been an hour or two since it happened, since I killed Vernon and stole his car. He had it coming, but now I am running away from the repercussions of my actions. Even through my mingled satisfaction and guilt at killing Vernon, I am angry. Because Vernon had gotten away with stealing my childhood and would probably have gotten away with hurting and possibly killing me today. 

But there is no way I will be allowed to get away with killing Vernon.

I rub absentmindedly at the bruising I’m sure is going to form around my neck and steel my resolve. I made this far; I am not going to back down now.

To ensure that I don’t get caught, there’s several things I need to do. At the top of that list is disposing of the body and disguising myself. I am very recognizable in this area, by virtue of Petunia’s gossip-mongering, and I will surely be wanted for questioning as soon as the still-bloody scene of the crime is discovered. By far the easier of the two propositions is disguising myself, so I focus my attention on planning what I’ll do.

I am still wearing the rags that are the only clothing I’ve ever been given, and my messy, dark hair is recognizable from a mile away, so these are two things I ought to do away with first.

There’s not much I can do for the color of my hair till I find somewhere to buy hair dye, but I think that restyling my hair will do a lot to throw people off. To this end, I pull over to the side of the road and turn on the interior light of the car.

I’m quite grateful that the road is mostly empty at this time of night as I sit there in the driver’s seat of the car, french-braiding my hair as flat against my head as it will go, a difficult task given the texture of my hair, but one that I am determined to manage. Once done, I survey my appearance in my rear-view window and nod in satisfaction. It won’t fool anyone who knows me, but it ought to stop people who have spent too much time listening to Petunia from recognizing me immediately.

The biggest problem is, of course, the rags that I’m wearing. I should have stolen something else, anything else, before driving off into the night, but my mind had been so clouded with panic that I failed to plan for anything at all.

At least the car has a full tank of gas, because I am certainly going to be driving for quite some time.

I wonder, as I pass through yet another bog, if ought to just stop the car and tip the body out into one of them. God knows enough people get lost in the swamp every year; one more body probably wouldn’t be that out of the ordinary. I worry for a moment that my strong desire to be rid of Vernon’s body is clouding my judgement, but as I drive for another thirty minutes or so without seeing another soul, I grow more confident that it’s a decent decision.

The next time I enter a particularly swampy region, I stop the car and get out immediately.

I walk around to open up my trunk, and I’m confronted with the body for the first time since I had managed to shove it into my trunk. I reach into the trunk and carefully tuck the sheet I wrapped him in tighter. I have no desire to have a last look at the man who destroyed my childhood. I stand there for some time, not sure how long, staring at the large, shapeless lump that is illuminated by the weak light built into the car.

Then I realize that I’ve been quite stupid, that I have forgotten something incredibly important. I steel myself and reach into the trunk, patting the lump near where I think the trousers pockets ought to be. My hand hits something firm and I try to hold back my exhale of relief until I am sure it is what I hope it is.

I peel back just enough of the sheet to access the pocket, then slide my hand in. I pull out whatever it is, and my shoulders slump in relief when I see that it is a wallet that I have pulled out of the pocket.

I open the wallet with trembling hands, and I nearly cry with relief when I realize that there’s a considerable amount of cash in it. I had been so panicked when I’d run that I hadn’t even thought to bring money. I am so relieved that a problem I had entirely neglected previously was now solved that I am hard-pressed not to start crying.

Now is not the time for crying, because it would just redden my eyes, making me more conspicuous, which is the last thing I want.

I take some of the cash out and slide it into my bra, put some more into the glove box, and then tuck the final portion under the floor mat beneath the driver’s seat. Then I sort through the cards in his wallet, hoping that one of them will be something useful, something that doesn’t bear Vernon’s name. My reluctance to use anything that could be easily tracked back to him, and thus to me, means that I will have to abandon his credit cards.

Unfortunately, there is nothing more of use in the wallet. I replace all the cards that I had removed and climb back out of the car. I reopen the trunk, then pause for a moment. I had been planning to slide the wallet back into his pocket, but I hesitate. If I do that, then it will be easy for the body to be identified, and I don’t think I want that.

I set the wallet to the side of my trunk and begin the laborious process of removing the body from the car. I have to drag the body off the road and into the trees while carefully navigating the treacherous ground and a small part of me is glad that I don’t have to worry about ruining my clothes, since they’re already ruined.

Once I’m far enough away from the road, I begin to look for an appropriately muddy spot to dump the body in. After a few more minutes of searching, I find the perfect little pond. I roll his body into it and it disappears completely. I wipe my sweaty palms on my ragged trousers and turn my back on the pond, walking back to the car.

Once I get there, I close the trunk firmly.

I climb back into the car and set off again, ready to drive until morning. The shops will be open then, and I will be able to acquire some dye for my hair, and perhaps some less conspicuous clothing. Because although this area is rural, and therefore far from well off, the rags that the Dursleys had forced me to wear are so deteriorated that I stand out wherever I go. 

I roll the window down, enjoying the wind blowing through my braid. The dappled moonlight is streaming down onto the road and into the car. I take a deep breath of the crisp night air, then exhale it slowly.

There’s something peaceful about driving off alone into the night.

* * *

The next morning, I stop at a gas station. It’s located in one of the larger towns I’ve been through. It’s now past time for the shops to be open, and I’m quite grateful to be able to finally stop driving, at least for a bit. I’m beginning to get so tired that I’m worried I’ll crash, so once I get some hair dye I plan to check into a motel until tomorrow.

I climb stiffly out of the car and head inside to pay for my gas. Then I head back out to fill up the car’s tank. Nothing quite like driving through the night to empty your gas tank.

As I’m standing around, waiting for the gas to finish dispensing, I make eye contact with the woman who is filling up her own car across the way. I quickly look away, but not before I notice that she’s staring at me. I worry, for a moment, that she’ll say something to me about my attire, but thankfully my car finishes then, and I’m able to remove the gas nozzle.

I gratefully duck into my car and drive off to find the corner convenience store. A town this size must have one. I find it at the end of the main street, and so I park the car a few steps away. I slide a dime into the meter and go into the store.

A bell rings as I open the door. A teenager sitting behind the store counter asks, in an inimitably bored tone, “How can I help you?”

“Could you direct me to your hair dye?” I say pleasantly.

The teenager wordlessly points off into the shelves.

“Thank you,” I say. Then I head off in that direction.

It’s simple enough to find the single shelf containing the color options, but then I’m stumped. I hadn’t gotten so far as to decide what color to dye my hair. I’m staring back and forth between the dark tail of my braid and the boxes of dye, hesitating. Then I take a deep breath and grab the box of red dye.

As I’m walking back to the front to pay, I pass the rest of the hair care supplies that the store carries. My eye is caught by the hair-cutting scissors. I dither for a moment, then pull them off the shelf as well. If I’m going to disguise myself, I may as well do it right.

Before I go to pay, I detour to the food section of the store and pick up a couple of bags of chips and a box of granola bars.

I pay the teenager in cash, then go back to the car to stow my purchases away. I still have some time left on the meter, so I go into the clothing store across the street. When I’d paid at the convenience store, I’d also discretely counted how much money I had left, so I have an idea of how much I can afford to spend here.

I quickly purchase a long-sleeved polka dot t-shirt, a pair of white shorts, and a comfortable pajama set. Then I hurry back to the car. Thankfully, I’ve made it back before the meter has run out.

Resting my head against the steering wheel of the car, I consider my next move. When my eyes start to close against my will, it’s abundantly clear what my next move needs to be. On my drive into town I had failed to pass any motels, so I start my car and head along the main street, hoping that there’s a motel on this side of the outskirts of town.

I’ve barely driven for another couple minutes when a motel comes into view. I gratefully gather both my purchases and some more cash from the glove box, and then head in to rent a room for the day and night. I’ve gone far enough that I think it’ll be okay if I spend some time here.

The receptionist hands me a set of keys once I pay, and then I head out to find my room. I’m worried about how quickly I’m burning through my incredibly limited supply of money, but the sound of another car pulling into the motel parking lot derails my train of thought.

I refocus on finding my room and remind myself that my only goal at the moment has to be to get away.

As I make my way slowly to my room, I realize that I’ve started to shake a bit. I suppose that it must be my exhaustion finally catching up to me, so I pause and lean against the outside of the room for a moment. I close my eyes and take in a deep, steadying breath.

While I had been driving, I hadn’t been bothered much by what I’d done– or what had driven me to do it– but I can now feel the darkness of those thoughts lurking around the edges of my exhausted consciousness. I begin to worry about what I will dream of once I finally fall asleep, but then–

“Excuse me,” a voice says from right behind me.

I jump about a foot into the air in my shock. My eyes land on the woman from the gas station earlier. Up close, she’s strikingly pretty. She’s wearing a cinched suede skirt that has a fringe along the bottom. There’s a black, sleeveless button-up shirt tucked into it. The cool tones of her clothes compliment her porcelain white skin and her silver eyes.

For a moment, my mind is completely blank as I take her in.

“I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says, smiling. “This is going to sound a bit forward of me, but I saw you, you know, at the gas station. And, well, I was just so intrigued, but then you left before I could come over and say something. I nearly thought that I’d never see you again. But then I saw your car here, almost like it was meant to be.” 

Here she pauses to laugh breathlessly. I watch as she rubs her hand along the back of her neck.

“I’m not one to deny myself something I want,” she continues. “So I pulled in, and here we are!”

I take a half-step away from her and say, “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Ah right, introductions. I’m Draco Malfoy. I’ve just been wandering aimlessly for a while,” she says. She tips forward slightly onto the balls of her feet, then settles back down.

“My name is–” I hesitate for the briefest moment, then continue, “Harry Evans.”

It’s a fake name, but it’s a combination of what I’ve thought would be a nice name and my mother’s maiden name, so I ought to respond to it as I should.

Draco sticks her hand out to shake, and I find myself automatically taking it. Her hand is soft and warm, and the shake is firm, but brief.

I discover that I’ve mirrored her pleasant smile without thinking, and so I now let it slide from my face. Draco doesn’t seem like she’s dangerous, but I am simply too tired to stand around here chatting. So I say, with a little regret, “I was just about to go take a nap because I’d been driving all night.”

“Oh, you must be tired,” Draco says kindly. “Please, let me walk you to your room.”

“Alright,” I say, honestly a little grateful to have someone help me find it. The motel is small, but I’m exhausted. “It’s room 110,” I tell her.

Draco looks around the hallway that we’re standing in, then takes my hand, striding off purposefully. “This way,” she says.

It only takes us a few moments to come to a stop outside the room labelled ‘110’.

“Here you are,” Draco says, releasing my hand. “I think I’ll go get my own room, now.”

I blame my exhaustion for what I say next. “Why don’t you just stay with me?” 

Draco pauses for a moment. Then she says, “Are you sure? I can just as easily go and book my own room. I wouldn’t want you to think that I pulled over to take advantage of you or anything.”

I fumble with the key to my room and jam it into the lock as I say, “Nonsense, just stay with me. I’m just going to be sleeping right now, anyways, so you’ll have the room to yourself.” A beat later, I clarify, “I sleep like the dead, so you won’t have to worry about waking me.”

The door swings open and I step through, holding the door open for Draco. “Go on,” I say, not entirely sure why I’m being so insistent.

I realize, then, that it’s probably because now that I’ve had company, being alone sounds entirely unappealing. Draco is so bright that it’s hard to wallow in darkness when I’m in her presence, and if she’s going to stay at the motel anyways, it just makes sense for her to stay with me.

Draco stares into my eyes for a moment, as if to make sure that I’m sure, and then she steps past me into the dingy motel room. “I’ll just set my things down for now, then,” she says. “If that’s alright. I still have a few more errands to run.”

Then Draco pauses, looking over at me again. “I’m very glad I decided to stop by here today.”

“I’m glad you stopped here too,” I say.

We exchange a smile as we set our things down.

“Take the key and lock the door behind you, please,” I tell her. Then I collapse onto the bed, fully clothed and without washing my face.


	2. Dancing with a Stranger

I come awake slowly, after a blessedly dreamless sleep, to the sounds of a sitcom playing on the TV. My mouth is dry and it feels like there’s cotton in my ears. I should’ve known I’d wake up feeling odd— I’d made the mistake of driving through the night and sleeping through the following day. I probably ought to get used to being nocturnal, though, because I am on the run.

I sit up slowly and rub the sleep out of my eyes.

“Oh!” Draco says, upon seeing that I’m awake. “I got dinner for us,” she says, gesturing at the takeout that sits invitingly on the coffee table.

I feel the first pang of guilt as I make my way over to sit with her. She’s so kind and I am a murderer. I shake the guilt off quickly, though, because Vernon had well and truly deserved what he’d gotten. I rub at the bruising I’m sure must be visible on my neck and go to awkwardly hover by the food.

“Are you sure? I don’t really– I can’t really afford to pay you back for this,” I say. My budget doesn’t include the price of takeout, and as hungry as I am, I don’t want to take advantage of her kindness.

“Of course I’m sure. You’re letting me stay here aren’t you? Really,” she says, grabbing her purse, “I ought to be helping you pay for the room.”

I’m torn. I do need the money, but it doesn’t feel right to accept it from her.

“What was the rate for the room?” she asks.

I hesitate for a moment longer, but then I tell her the price. She hands me cash for exactly half the price of the room. “How much was the takeout?” I ask, still holding the cash.

“No, no,” says Draco, shaking her head. “It was my pleasure.”

I figure I can slide a couple dollars into her purse when she’s not looking, so I sit down with food she’d gotten for me.

“I do hope you like what I got for you,” Draco says. “I had to make a guess.”

I settle down in the chair next to Draco and dig into the food. While we eat, we sit together in companionable silence as we watch the terrible sitcom on one of the three channels the TV in the motel gets.

Then once I’m done, I get up and grab the things I bought from the corner convenience store. I say to Draco, “I’m going to go shower.”

“Alright,” she replies. Then she adds, with a smile, “Don’t drown in there.”

I smile back and say, “I won’t.”

I go into the bathroom and gently close the door behind me.

First I climb into the shower, doing my best to rinse off the stink of both the road and the swamp. I hadn’t thought to purchase any toiletries, so I have to make do with just the hot water, because this isn’t the sort of motel that provides any extras.

Once I’m satisfied that I’m as clean as I’m going to get, I step out and dry myself off, trying not to think too hard about the likely state of the provided towels. I get dressed in the polka-dot outfit I’d purchased, and then set out the materials to fix my hair. My shower has ensured that my hair has returned to its wild, untamable state.

I decide to dye my hair first and cut it afterwards. So I set about following the instructions on the back of the boxed hair dye. It advises the user to have help applying the dye to the back of their hair, and I dither for longer than I’d like to over whether to ask Draco to help me. I don’t want to impose, but it would be easier with her help.

Between my shower and my dithering, I must have shut myself away for too long, because Draco knocks on the door and asks, “Are you alright in there, Harry? It’s been awhile since the shower turned off. I don’t mean to pry, but I was just getting a bit worried.” Then she stops herself, as if worried she’s gone too far.

“Actually, uh, I’m trying to dye my hair,” I say. “And I was wondering if you could help? The door’s unlocked, if you don’t mind.” I’ve barely finished speaking when the bathroom door opens.

“I would love to help,” Draco says, striding across the bathroom to where I’m standing, which is in front of the sink.

The box of dye is still in my hand, and so I watch as she reaches for it. I quickly hand it over to her. She scans the directions I had read only moments ago. Then she nods confidently and says, “I’m going to go and grab a chair, and then I am going to absolutely _nail_ this makeover.”

She hurries out to the main room. I shake my hair out again while I wait for her to return.

Once Draco is back, she sets the chair down in front of the sink. I sit down, leaning back and dumping my hair into the sink. It doesn’t take too long to dye my hair, and it actually looks pretty good once it’s done. Far better than I thought it would have, considering that I’ve had the same black colour for most of my life. If I have a ‘rest of my life’, I hope to never dye my hair again, since I have always been fond of my hair color, despite the derision the Dursleys gave me for it.

Draco is carding her hands through my hair; I think to make sure that she’s properly rinsed it all.

“Thank you,” I say gratefully.

She pauses, then says, “You’re very welcome, Harry.”

Then her hands resume their motions. I close my eyes for a while, allowing myself to simply enjoy the gentle contact. After another moment or two, Draco slowly removes her hands from my hair. I reluctantly open my eyes and sit up.

I give my hair a toss, making brief eye contact with Draco in the mirror before I blush and quickly look away. “I was going to cut my hair, too,” I say, reaching for the scissors.

“Doing a bit of reinventing, I take it?” Draco says. “Did you want to do it yourself?”

I glance back at her in the mirror to see that she’s looking steadily at me. “If you wouldn’t mind,” I say, trailing off uncertainly.

Draco smiles again and says, “I would be perfectly happy to.”

I return the smile and hand her the scissors.

Once Draco is done with my hair she pauses, and we once again make eye contact in the mirror.

“I think we ought to swing the chair around,” she says. “So I can reach the front of your hair more easily.”

I immediately get to my feet, spin the chair around, and sit back into it. Then I pull my hair out from where it got trapped between my back and the chair, glancing nervously up at Draco.

“What’s this?” she says softly, reaching out to stroke my neck with feather-soft fingers.

I blanch. I thought she had already seen, in the mirror, the bruises Vernon had left behind, and either hadn’t said anything, or hadn’t cared.

I reach up with my hand and lightly place it on top of hers. Now both our hands are resting against my throat. I shake my head minutely and say, just as softly, “Not now, not yet.”

She nods, and then she shifts her hand as if to remove it. I hold it in place for a moment longer, then release her.

The moment is broken as she resumes cutting my hair, and I feel a flash of regret from not confiding in her. But if I’d told her about the bruising, and my uncle in general, I can tell that I wouldn’t have been able to stop until I’d told her everything. And I can’t see it going well if I tell her that I killed my uncle.

My haircut turns out remarkably well considering that it was done by a beginner in a dingy motel bathroom. I thank Draco again, and then we go back out to the main room. It’s still early, so we settle back into the chairs by the television.

After a few minutes of sitting in front of the television I begin to get restless, and so I get up to wander the room. I absently open the drawers of the bedside tables, and in the last drawer of the second table I find a notebook. I realize then what I ought to do for my restlessness.

I look back through the drawers for the pen I’d seen in one of them. Then I take both the notebook and the pen back to the chair I’d been sitting in. There’s a phone number written on the first page of the notebook, so I skip to the second page, which is blank.

Writing had been one of the few refuges available to me at the Dursleys, so I set pen to paper and allow the words to flow.

Several pages later of what are probably senseless ramblings, I see Draco get up and dig around in the bags she’d brought back earlier. I quickly look away, not wanting to pry, but then she comes back over and sets some tiny bottles of alcohol down upon the table.

“Would you like a drink?” she asks, taking one for herself and sitting back down.

I think I know what she’ll say if I offer to pay, so I mentally add a couple more dollars to the amount I’m planning to slip into her things. Reaching over, I pick up a bottle.

We switch off the television and turn on the radio. 

The song that comes on is a popular one that even I know all the words to, and I find myself nodding along to the music. I catch Draco’s eye. She is also nodding and mouthing the words. For a moment, I find myself transfixed by the motion of her lips, but then my thoughts are torn away from that path when Draco stands up. 

She gracefully walks across the room to my chair. Then she takes my hand and gently pulls me to my feet. 

“Dance with me,” she says. 

I shake my head as she starts dancing next to me. “I don’t– I don’t know how to dance.” The thought of Petunia letting me _dance_ is laughable. 

“Then I will have to teach you how,” Draco says, tightening her grasp on my hand, and soon enough she is pulling me into motion alongside her. 

I take a deep breath, shoving down my embarrassment, and then I chug the rest of my drink for good measure. I toss the empty bottle gently onto the seat I had been occupying, then grab Draco’s other hand with my own. 

The dancing that Draco teaches me is very different from the restricted behavior I’m used to. It’s very free and unstructured, and is clearly intended purely for my own enjoyment.

During a brief pause between songs, Draco offers me another drink. I gratefully accept it, downing half of the drink before the next song starts, and then Draco is spinning me into motion again. 

Every time I start to feel ridiculous, Draco swings me ‘round again, or lifts me into the air, or places her hand just a little too low on my back, and suddenly I can think of nothing but the motion and flow of dancing. 

Soon, I lose all track of time and reality as Draco and I dance to song after song. 

Eventually, I collapse onto the bed after a very energetic song, laughing breathlessly. Draco flops down next to me and flings her arms out. One of her hands lands on my stomach. I reach out with one of my own hands and place my palm on top of hers. She wraps her hand around mine, and suddenly my hand in hers is all I can think of.

“We ought to sleep,” Draco says, still a little breathless.

I nod in agreement, then realize she can’t see the motion. I laugh at my own foolishness, then say, “We should.”

We continue to lie on the bed– her hand on my stomach and my hand in hers– for several more minutes. Then she sits up, taking my hand with her. She stands up and tugs me off the bed with her. I stand next to her, feeling floppy as she slides the covers down with her free hand.

Then she guides me over to the bed, shoving me gently down towards it. I go willingly. “Get under the covers, silly,” she says. “We’re going to bed now.”

I pull my legs into the bed, and then she tucks the covers down around me. A few moments later, the bed compresses as she gets under the covers on the other side. I fling my hand over to her side of the bed, and she takes it. “Sleep well, Harry,” she says.

“Goodnight, Draco,” I whisper back.

* * *

I wake from another dreamless sleep to find my back pressed into Draco’s stomach. Her arm is flung over my side, and I am still holding her hand. I feel myself blush, but remain perfectly still, unwilling to disturb Draco’s sleep. Because of my nap yesterday, I’ve woken up early. So I settle in for a long wait until she wakes up.

Eventually, I feel Draco stir in her sleep. I can feel that she’s awake now, but she doesn’t retract her hand or move away.

After several long moments where we both remain still, Draco says, “What plans do you have for today?”

I pause as reality comes crashing back in. Today I need to run again. I have to stay moving. If I don’t, I’ll surely be caught.

“I’ll probably keep wandering,” I say, with forced casualness. 

“You’re a wanderer too?” Draco asks, sounding pleased.

We don’t wander for the same reasons, but I still say, “Yeah, I guess I am.”

I can feel Draco’s heart rate increase against my back. She takes a deep breath. “Would you like to wander together?”

My own heart stops and I hear myself say, “Yes,” before I can think better of it. Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of things without thinking, but I can’t bring myself to regret this one time.

“Do you know if there’s a car dealership around?” I say. “We certainly don’t need two cars to wander together.” At this, I finally turn around to face her, still not letting go of her hand.

She’s smiling happily at me, and I automatically smile back. “I think there may be one about a thirty-minute drive away,” she says.

I sigh in relief, glad I’d been right in thinking that she wants us to travel together. And, well, getting rid of the car that I had stolen can only be for the better.

After a couple more moments of lying in bed, we get up. We stumble around, doing our morning routines together. “Harry, you don’t happen to have any perfume, do you?” Draco asks from inside the bathroom. “I’ve only just realized that I’ve run out, and I don’t know when I’ll have the chance to purchase a new bottle.”

I blush uncomfortably and say, “I, uh, don’t have any toiletries.” There’s a silent moment before I hurriedly add, “Yet.” Since we’re going to sell my car, I ought to be able to afford some basics.

“You poor dear!” Draco exclaims. She sticks her head out of the bathroom, looking around for me.

I am standing over by the TV, in the middle of stuffing the notebook with my music into the plastic bag that holds my old rags.

“I insist you take a shower with my things,” she says. “I have plenty of everything else, and there’s no need for you to go without.”

I consider her for a moment as I weigh my discomfort with being dirty against my reluctance to take further advantage of her generosity. Then I remember that I have not showered since I– since I left the Dursleys. So I nod. 

“Thank you,” I say, taking my bag along with me into the bathroom. She hands me her toiletries, then steps out of the bathroom.

This shower is much nicer than the one I’d taken the night before. I feel much cleaner now, and when I survey myself in the bathroom mirror after I’ve gotten dressed, I am happier with my appearance than I have been in ages.

After a moment of this, I head back out of the bathroom. While I had been showering, Draco has finished packing up and cleaning.

“Are we ready to go?” she asks.

I nod and say, “Just your toiletries left.”

She hurries into the bathroom and scoops the toiletries into her bag. Then she rejoins me in the main room, and I lock the door behind us before we walk together to the lobby to check out. Down in the parking lot of the motel, she gives me directions to the car dealership, and then we go into our separate cars.

I feel a pang at leaving her, but I push it down. I’ve only known her for a day, and we’re going to see each other again in a couple hours. We had agreed that there was no reason to put Draco through the boredom of going to the car dealership, so she is going to spend a couple of hours at a nearby park before joining me.

I’m a little nervous at the dealership, but the sale goes off without a hitch. I suspect I’m not getting as much money for the car as I ought to, but I don’t really know how to get more, and I don’t want to waste the time trying, so I decide I can live with it. And besides, the car is stolen anyways, and I’m lucky no one has caught onto that fact yet.

Draco joins me just as I’m signing the final papers. She waits until I receive the check, and then we hurry back out into the parking lot. Draco guides me to her car by the hand. She opens the door for me, and I climb in, flashing her a smile as I go.

We spend the first little bit of the drive in companionable silence.

Then Draco says, out of the blue, “I should tell you something. About my wanderings. I do have– did have– a goal for them.”

I glance over at her curiously, but she’s just looking forward at the road, both her hands resting at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel. “Oh?” I say.

“I was looking for somewhere to belong, for some _one_ to belong with. And I think I’ve found her.”

My stomach drops, and I wonder who she’d met while I had been selling my car– and what I’m going to do without my car, now that Draco has found her person.

“Who is she?” I ask through the pain in my gut. I should have known better than to get so attached so quickly.

Draco glances over at me with such an inscrutable expression that I worry that I’ve overstepped. “You are the person,” she says.

My brows draw together, and my confusion is clear in my voice when I ask, “Me?”

“Yes, you. I knew it from the moment I saw you at the gas station,” Draco says.

I take a moment to process this, then begin to feel agitated. Draco not have a reason to wander anymore, but I certainly do. I am still just as much of a murderer as I was yesterday, and still just as much on the run.

“But–” I start to say.

“That doesn’t mean,” Draco says, interrupting me and placing her hand on my knee, “that I don’t want to continue wandering with you. Because I do want that.”

I shift so I can look at her face properly, and I see that her expression is perfectly serious. “But you don’t have a _reason_ to wander anymore,” I say.

Draco looks exasperated as she glances over to meet my eyes. She says, “But you _do_. So, by extension, I do too. We can go wherever you like, so long as we’re together.”

“You’d do that for me?” I ask.

Draco’s hand squeezes my knee. “Of course I would, because I’ve been looking for you, Harry. I have been looking for a long time. So I want to go where you go.”

I can’t even begin to comprehend how _I_ could be the person that _Draco_ is looking for. Draco is so much better than I could ever be, but here she is, saying that I am the one that she has been looking for.

Then I realize that I still need to respond to what she has said, so I say, “I don’t really know where I want to go– I just can’t stay still.”

I feel bad for continuing to lie to her, but I can’t see a way around it, because telling her the truth would mean being abandoned, and I don’t think I could take that. So that means my only option is to continue to hide the truth.

I shove down the guilt I feel at lying to Draco, fixing my eyes firmly on the road ahead of us. 

“That’s perfectly alright,” Draco says. “We can just pick a direction and continue to drive. There’s also a map in the glovebox if you’d like to pick a destination.”

I go ahead and open up the glovebox, pulling the map out and unfolding it. I don’t really know what I’m looking at, so I shift my grip on the map and hold it out so Draco can easily reach over. “Don’t look over, just point at the map,” I say.

She does, and when I read out the name of the town closest to where she pointed, she says, “I’ve never been there before.”

“Want to go?” I ask. 

Draco navigates the car into the turning lane and says, “Why not? Maybe we’ll find what you’re looking for.” 

I know we’ll never find it because I’m not looking _for_ anything, I’m running _from_ something, but I say, “Maybe,” anyways.

“And if we don’t find it there, then we’ll just have to keep looking,” Draco reassuringly. “And until then, we’ll have each other.”

I reach down, squeezing Draco’s hand where it still rests on my knee, swallowing down all the things I ought to say. There will be plenty of time for me to tell the truth—and for Draco to abandon me—later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the response to the first chapter was great! please please keep leaving comments! (and kudos/bookmarks/subs)! originally, this story was about 6k words and now it's going to be about 9k, and that's thanks to y'all! 
> 
> the last chapter will be from draco's pov :D


	3. Letting Go

**_Four Months Later_ **

Harry and I are sitting across from each other on the bed in our motel room. We have spent the past few months together simply driving around the countryside and staying in roadside motels. 

Harry has been acting off all day, so I’ve decided to give her some space. To occupy the time, I allow my mind to drift back to the time before I met her, back when I was still a wanderer, searching. 

I had finished university a couple years before others my age were scheduled to by virtue of my sheer determination to make something of myself. Then, with my degree, I was easily hired as a secretary to some important bigshot at some important firm, and I had planned to use the position as a leaping point to achieve the position I truly wanted. 

I quickly found, however, that my gender kept me from getting anywhere. No matter how hard I worked, how much overtime I pulled, or how many people I schmoozed, I never received any recognition or advancement. 

One day, when I had been sitting at my desk and watching one of my colleagues announce his engagement, I realized how horribly unfulfilled I was. And on the heels of that realization was the realization that I was lonely. 

It had been that moment, in the middle of my colleague’s announcement, that I had stood from my desk and marched into my boss’s office. I went and told him: “I _quit._ ” 

And he’d laughed at me. Actually laughed at me. The disappointment and loneliness that had been swirling around in my gut morphed into anger, rushing straight to my head. I’d stalked forward, moving around his desk. 

“Draconia? What are you doing?” 

“Something I should have done long ago.” And then I had reared back and slapped him across the face with as much force as I could muster. I had longed to do more, but the office was too public and there were too many witnesses. 

“Goodbye, forever,” I’d said. Then I had whirled around and walked out of his office. I had stopped at my desk just long enough to collect my purse and my coat, and then I’d left the office without looking back.

After that, I had gone back to my apartment and sat at my kitchen table, just to think. I had learned the hard way that, because I was a woman, I would not be able to advance to the top of a company the way I ought to be able to. 

I also had little desire to remain among the useless, despicable men who were responsible for my oppression. I had decided, as the light in my kitchen had grown darker, on what I needed to do. 

The next day, I’d packed up all the belongings I would need for a life on the road and piled everything into my car. That day, I set off, out of the city and into the countryside. Looking for companionship, for someone to run away with. Someone to spend my life with.

The day I set eyes on Harry at that droll gas station had been several months after I’d set off into the countryside. In all that time, I had never managed to quite articulate what it was, exactly, that I was looking for. But as soon as I’d set my eyes on Harry, I had known that she was the one. When she had finished pumping her gas and set off down the main street of that tiny town, I had waited a few moments, then set off after her. 

After spending so long looking for her, there had been no way that I was going to let her go. 

When she had stopped her car at the corner convenience store, I’d parked halfway down the block, just to keep an eye on her. I had known that going into the store after her would make it much too easy for her to see me and get suspicious—especially since Harry and I had met eyes at the gas station—and I didn’t want that yet. 

Once Harry had finished her errands, she’d gotten into her car and pulled onto the road again. I’d given her a head start, and then set off after her, doing my best to keep her in sight without letting her know she was being followed. 

I’d assumed that since she’d looked so exhausted when I’d seen her, she would be heading for somewhere to sleep, and I’d been quickly proven right when she pulled into a motel parking lot. 

By the time I had parked my car and walked up to the building, Harry must have managed to book a room, because she’d been standing down the hallway that led to the rooms, leaning against the wall. She’d looked utterly exhausted, and I’d wondered what had happened to make her look so tired. I thought I’d seen a crinkle between her brows, too, that made me want to gently rub the spot. 

And fix whatever put the crinkle there in the first place.

I walk up to her and say, “Excuse me.” 

The rest is, as they say, history. I bring my thoughts back to the present and refocus on Harry. She’s still sitting with her shoulders slumped and her lip between her teeth. I sigh and reach forward to gently extricate her lip out. It’s the last interruption I’ll allow myself to have until Harry has said everything that’s on her mind. 

“You’ve been nervous all day,” I say gently. I wish she would just come out and say it, whatever it is, because I hate to see her worrying like this.

She shifts and turns away from me slightly. Somehow, I restrain the impulse to reach out and comfort her, because, despite our closeness, this feels like something important, and therefore something I ought to let her say without interruption.

“Draco,” she begins hesitantly, “there’s something I haven’t told you. And I understand if you want me to leave after I tell you, but please let me finish first.”

I nod solemnly, though I know that nothing she tells me will make me abandon her. And, well, I think I know what she’s going to tell me.

“My name is technically Rose Potter, and… well, god it’s hard to know where to begin…” Harry says, still looking anywhere but at me. 

“You could try starting at the beginning,” I suggest. 

Harry takes in a long shuddering breath, then says, “The beginning… I guess you should know that my parents died in a car accident when I was still a baby, and that I was sent to live with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. They weren’t– they weren’t nice people. But they were all I had.

“My uncle– Vernon– always hated me the most, of the three of them, so maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised when he tried to kill me. He slammed me up against the wall and gave me those bruises you saw in the bathroom the day that we met...” Harry says, trailing off and absently rubbing at her neck. 

Thankfully, the bruises have long since faded away, or else the sight of them, in addition to the things Harry is telling me, might have driven me to do something rash. 

Harry still looks so distressed that I can’t control myself any longer. I slide over to her on the bed and place my arm around her shoulders, rubbing at her arm soothingly. She chokes on her sob and presses her hands into her eyes. I get the feeling that she needs to let this all out, so I hold my silence, even though it kills me a little to see her like this.

I do give her a quick squeeze, though. 

“So I decided that enough was enough. I reached over and grabbed the fireplace poker and hit him over the head as hard as I could. He collapsed to the floor– dead.” She pulls her hands away from her face and shifts so she’s facing me, finally making eye contact. “I’m a murderer, Draco. I decided to kill him and I did and then I tossed his body into a swamp.”

I give her a moment to see if she’ll continue, but she just averts her eyes again by looking around at the bland motel decorations. I reach out and grab one of her hands, holding it between both of my own. “Harry, I already know,” I say.

She leans back and her eyes widen in shock. “How?” she whispers.

“Remember the day after we met, when you went to sell your car?” I ask. She nods, so I continue, “On my way to the park I was listening to the radio, and they were warning people to be on the lookout for a woman named Rose Potter. She was wanted for murder of her uncle. And I knew that your real name was Rose Potter, because I’d seen your ID while we’d been packing our bags that morning.”

“And you still wanted to wander with me?” Harry asks softly. “Even though you knew I was–am–a murderer?”

I smile at her, just as softly, and say, “Of course I did. You didn’t seem like the type to murder your uncle without reason, and I _like_ you.”

Harry is still staring into my eyes. Then her eyes dart down towards my lips, and my heartbeat quickens. My own eyes mimic her motion, and I am entranced by her lips. I notice that they’re still a bit swollen from when she’d been biting them, and so I lean closer to get a better look, just in case she’s actually hurt herself.

But then she leans forward further, pressing her lips to mine, and I promptly lose that train of thought.

I shift slightly on the bed and release Harry’s hand so I can gently cup the back of her neck. From here, I can feel the rapid beat of her heart against my palm. Harry’s lips are slightly chapped, and I hesitate for the slightest moment before I run my tongue along her lips. 

Her mouth opens immediately. I decide that it is an invitation, and slide my tongue into her mouth. 

As I tilt my head to the side to get better access, I feel the flutter of Harry’s eyelashes against my cheekbone. I smile slightly against her lips, then resume my exploration. 

Harry shifts her weight slightly, and I gasp when she slides her hands under my shirt and onto my back. The way she grips at my skin, pulling my body closer to her, speaks of a desperation I am happy to accomodate. 

I briefly break our kiss, smiling at Harry’s disappointed gasp. “Just a moment,” I say breathlessly.

I take a deep breath of air. Then I place one knee on either side of Harry’s legs and sit back, part of my weight on her lap, part of my weight on my heels. 

Then I tangle one of my hands into Harry’s wild hair, sliding the other around to Harry’s back. I have to resist the urge to just slide her shirt over her head. As much as I want that to happen now, I think it’s best for us if I wait. 

And then Harry’s placing her hand on the back of my neck, drawing me in closer to her, and I obligingly follow her direction. Our lips meet, and this time I’m the one to part my lips for her. 

I lose track of time as we sit there on the motel bed, going back and forth between her mouth and mine.

Eventually, we break apart for the final time with a gasp. I slide off Harry's lap to properly survey her appearance for the first time since we had started kissing. And then I nearly lean over to kiss her again, because she looks absolutely stunning. 

Her hair looks almost wind tousled from the amount of time my hands spent threaded in it. And her lips… are swollen and pink. She has a slightly dazed look in her eyes, a look that I think might also be present in my own gaze. 

I’m still admiring Harry’s appearance when she speaks.

“Draco, I think I love you,” she says, still breathless.

I blink dazedly as this statement sinks in. Then I think back to the first time I saw Harry, to that feeling I’d gotten, deep in my chest, as I’d realized that Harry was the one I’d been looking for.

That moment is quickly followed by the memory of the moment when I’d come back to the motel room to find Harry deeply asleep atop the covers of the motel bed, limbs askew, and I’d felt the very same pulsating of my chest and twist in my gut as I’d stood there and watched her. 

Next, I think of the moment as I was cutting her hair, then the moment we started dancing together. It’s as though I’ve unleashed a veritable flood of memories; moment after moment where I’d felt that same thing crowds through my mind, and I realize, at last, what that feeling is. 

“I love you, too,” I say confidently. I am a woman who knows what she wants, and now I have her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to say that that's all I've written! there's a decent chance I'll come back to this universe one day and the response has been so nice that I'm also considering an entirely separate wlw!drarry au and if you'd like to push that agenda feel free to comment below or find me on my tumblr [waitingondaisies](https://waitingondaisies.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And just fyi, I don’t care how long it’s been since I’ve posted, I still want your comments!! And any comment, no matter the length, is appreciated!!!

**Author's Note:**

> so this is actually a revamped version of a story i wrote for a class, because amanda (ao3 user duplicity) read it and realized that i had accidentally written it to be tomarry. i decided edit it and post it here for you all to enjoy, but the better the response is, the more effort I am going to put into editing and expanding the rest of it
> 
> and by "response", I mostly mean comments, though bookmarks, kudos, and subs are also appreciated


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